


I Hope You Know

by sixlettrsodapop



Category: The Following
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixlettrsodapop/pseuds/sixlettrsodapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt - "Can you write a thing where Jacob takes Paul to a hospital where another follower helps them?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hope You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Set after E06 and before E09. End is open to accommodate E09 when it airs next week; that's why it stops somewhat randomly. I stopped where the promo picked up with Jacob and Paul.

Jacob keeps his head down, buried in the outdated magazine he grabbed from the table and waits. His hands are shaking too hard to go get anymore coffee from the machine and it was hard enough getting Paul in without being seen by anyone who’d recognize them from the news, so he slouches further down in the chair and tugs his hood up. The woman three chairs down from him pulls her daughter closer after throwing a look his way and he swallows, hard. He just wants to get Paul and leave, call Emma again and see if she’ll answer this time, find the rest of the following. Get Paul to safety and let him heal in peace.  
The phone is hard against his leg as his foot taps unconsciously and he swallows again. Paul’s been back there for hours. They thought he’d be okay until they found the following, but then everyone had left them and Paul was bleeding so much. The inside of the truck is bad and Jacob wants to go clean it out, but he can’t go to the store when his face is plastered everywhere for child abduction and murder and he doesn’t want to leave Paul here alone anyway. He drags a hand across his face when he feels tears threatening to fall and looks at the clean streak on his hand, where the blood’s been washed off. Paul’s blood. Paul had been stabbed, nearly died for Joe Carroll and Paul may be in love with the guy, but Jacob isn’t. Jacob hates him and doesn’t want to meet him again because Paul’s the only thing Jacob has anymore and Carroll almost took that from him. His chest starts constricting and he’s nearly panting, fingers twisting the faded magazine pages until they threaten to tear and he lets go, hears it fall to the floor because his hands are covering his face, fingers knuckling at his eyes until he sees stars.  
His teeth are digging into his bottom lip and blood drips down, falls on his jeans and seeps into the blood already there and he’d laugh at that, at the irony that the first time his and Paul’s blood mixing is in the hospital when Paul’s half dead and Jacob’s losing his mind. They’ve talked about it, blood play. Never got around to it, but that doesn’t matter now. Not when Paul’s lost so much blood and is lying in the hospital away from Jacob, where he can’t get to him. He blinks his eyes open, tears sticking to his eyelashes and blurring his vision and he rubs a sleeve over his face this time, looking at the clock on the wall. It’s late and they’ve been pulling long days since the farm house, Jacob driving and driving, keeping Paul awake because he was afraid if Paul slept, he wouldn’t wake up. He twists in the chair, trying to find some semblance of comfort and settles curled up, knees pressing into the back of the chair and head against the wall, hands folded in his lap.  
He doesn’t mean to, but drifts off and jerks awake, breath catching in his throat and heart jack-rabbiting until he realizes where he is and what’s happening. He settles back into the wall, eyes warily on the nurses’ station and trying to keep track of everyone else at the same time. He just needs to know what’s going on, if Paul’s still alive. His body inevitably falls asleep again and again, until his muscles are sore from his spastic wake-ups and he sighs, twisting fingers into the pocket of his hoodie until he tucks his hands inside it. He wiggles his nose slightly and lets his eyes fall closed, intent on resting them for a moment. There’s a moment of panic when he registers the hand on his shoulder and he stills from his stretch, feels his heart slow down and speed back up, can’t help the thoughts of capture, oh my god I’ve been caught by the police that dart through his mind. When he blinks and his eyes focus, he picks out the features of one of the nurses he’d left Paul with and he averts his eyes; she’s glaring and he foolishly thinks she knows what he was thinking about Joe. It’s not until his chest starts burning that he realizes he’s forgotten to breathe and he sucks in a gulp of air, daring to look up at the nurse and she’s still glaring, but she nods.  
“He’s awake and in room 34. You can go back; be careful.”  
He waits until the nurse walks back behind the counter again before getting up and turning to face the wall, stretching his arms above his head then walking down the hall, keeping track of the room numbers. He glances around once before darting into 34, locking the door behind him and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he catches Paul’s eye. Paul who’s grinning at him, starch, white hospital blankets pooled around his hips and shirt off, revealing the white bandages around his stomach. Jacob feels the tension melt from his shoulders and smiles back, suddenly nervous. He loves Paul, knows he does deep down, has admitted it to himself multiple times. He just can’t say it to Paul, can’t make that commitment, not now. Not when Joe Carroll’s running their lives and death is lurking around every corner, waiting, watching. That’s not even bringing up Emma.  
“How are you smiling right now?”  
Paul pauses and his smile falls, but he holds out a hand to Jacob and he edges over, clasping their hands together and it feels good. Like that’s where he belongs and he looks at a point past Paul, at the dying flowers left over from the last patient who was in this room to stop the unease creeping into his stomach. There’s a nudge against his stomach and he looks down at Paul’s curly hair, dirt and blood matting it into an impossible mess, but familiar and Paul starts speaking into his shirt.  
“I’ve had some pain killers. Really strong ones.”  
Jacob doesn’t move Paul, lets him mumble nonsense into his stomach and picks up the pill bottle on the side table, reads the label and checks the time before he moves back, much to Paul’s dislike judging from the low whine he lets out.  
“We have to go, come on.” And he helps Paul up with hands on his shoulders, lets them trail down his arms once Paul’s standing on his own, brushing them against his fingertips before he pulls Paul’s clothes from the drawer in the side table. Paul goes lax when Jacob unfolds the clothes, following Jacob’s orders to lift up body parts and letting Jacob zip his track jacket up, even though the zipper jams with dried blood and Jacob’s hands start shaking again, breath coming in short gasps. Paul comes out of his medicinal haze enough to stroke one hand up Jacob’s back and presses his forehead into Jacob’s temple, waiting until Jacob’s breathing returns to normal then he pulls back.  
He wraps an arm around Paul’s waist, being careful to not press into the bandages where he knows the wounds are and puts the pill bottle in his hoodie pocket, starting the slow limp out to the truck. Paul lets out a small groans when he climbs up and Jacob’s hands flutter for a moment before Paul grabs one and squeezes lightly until the pain passes and then he lets out a long breath, looking over at Jacob’s worried face.  
“It’s fine.”  
Jacob looks over his face, pausing at the slightly glassy eyes and he nods, closing the door and walking around to get in the driver’s side. Paul’s quiet as he drives, seat reclined back and eyes on Jacob, just watching as he chews his lip and tries to think of where they can go.  
“Thank you.”  
It’s soft, murmured and Jacob would have missed it if he wasn’t tuned into listening for any noises of pain. The truck screeches as he hits the brakes and he swivels, looking at Paul.  
“For doing all of this.”  
Paul’s eyes are closed and he’s mumbling now, words slurring and blending together, but Jacob knows him, knows exactly what he said and watches until Paul’s breathing evens out. Paul’s always been touchy, wordy; he wants validation, for Jacob to know how he feels. It didn’t take him long to figure out it was real for Paul, everything they were doing, and it makes guilt churn in his stomach to think of how Paul must feel not knowing how Jacob feels. He runs a hand over Paul’s forehead, tangles his fingers in the matted curls lying there before brushing his lips across the expanse. Paul mumbles something unintelligible, turning further into the contact and Jacob sighs.  
“I hope you know how much I care about you.”  
~  
The house is still, familiar; Jacob could dare and even say comfortable. Paul lets out an appreciative noise as Jacob leans him against the door and digs behind the right plant for the key he knows is there then unlocks it, leads Paul inside with an arm around his waist. They head for the living room and Jacob helps him lie on the couch, leaving after Paul gives a content sigh. It’s not hard to find the spare pillows in his old room and walk back with them, tucking them under Paul’s head when he gets there and sinking onto the floor in front of the couch.  
“We’ll be okay,” he mutters, letting Paul link their fingers together, palm warm against his own and Paul lets out a murmur of agreement. They sit in silence, Paul’s breathing even and slow against Jacob’s quicker breaths until a car grinds against gravel and there’s a mix of voices, male and female.


End file.
